Deeper Care
by The Golden Koi
Summary: Ichigo has been wounded badly during a routine Hollow extermination. With the family gone, Kon and Rukia must care for him. What will happen as Rukia and Ichigo become closer over time? xIchiRukix
1. Rukia's Care

A/N: Blue eyes? Fixed! Sorry about that. I really _did_ know that he has amber/brown, but another of my heroes has blindingly blue eyes, so I always forget that other people ah, don't. Ahaha (cough) well anyway, hope that solves the problem!

_Rukia's Care_

* * *

Rukia looked down at Ichigo's calm, sleeping eyes as she brushed a few strands of dirtied, orange hair from his brow. He hadn't woken for almost two days having sustained horrible injuries from an attack that was meant for her. She closed her eyes to suppress the guilt that boiled to the surface, making her skin feel oily and dirty. With a pained sigh, she stood from the edge of his bed and turned to look at the street below his window.

Ichigo had always taken care of her, protected her. This time though, he had gone almost too far. Despite a giant hole in his chest and deep gashes on his arm, he had pushed her away and taken a Hollow's tusk in the stomach. They were both lucky that he had made the final blow as he fell into the attack and the horn quickly vanished from his gut, but the wound was still seeping with blood, dripping steadily upon the cement. As Ichigo fainted into Rukia's arms, she began to drag him frantically back to his home, sobbing for breath.

"Damnit, Ichigo. Why do you always have to save me?" she whispered as the sun's rays filled the sky with a vibrant array of parakeet colors. With one last glance out the window, she turned back towards the desk and tossed bloodied bandages and sponges into a large bowl of red, murky water. She picked it up gently and wobbled down to the kitchen.

The house was unusually quiet with the family gone for the summer. They were visiting their grandparents in Hokkaidou, but Ichigo said that he would be needed at the school, so he stayed behind. Rukia knew differently. She knew that he stayed to kill hollows and to look after the house, but deep inside she felt that he hadn't wanted to leave her. It was as if he had known she would be attacked and that he would have to save her like he always did. The thought was infuriating.

With an irritated flick of her wrist, Rukia turned on the faucet and listened to the tinkling of the metal bowl as water cascaded into the sink, washing away Ichigo's blood. She supported her weight upon the counter and hung her head between her arms. Once the water was scalding, she turned it off and laid the towels in the soapy water, hoping to lift some of the crimson memory from the cloth. She trudged back up the stairs and wandered into Ichigo's room.

Curtains closed, light dimmed, Rukia dressed calmly for sleep in the open air of the room. It wasn't often than Ichigo wasn't there, so it was a rare opportunity to be able to dress with her legs stretched, still having room enough to put her arms over her head. As she buttoned her nightshirt, she watched Ichigo's chest rise and fall serenely, his chiseled muscles pumping air like a well-oiled machine.

"Onee-san?" a tiny voice called timidly from the doorway. Rukia turned to see Kon holding onto the doorframe with his small plush limbs. He looked anxiously at Ichigo and shuffled his feet.

"Aa?" Rukia sighed. She sat down at the desk and beckoned to him. He wobbled over to her and climbed up on her lap. She didn't protest, but simply held him there, like a child who had just woken up from a nightmare.

"Will Ichigo be okay, onee-san?" he sniffled. Rukia noted that he leaned his head against her chest in a rather intimate spot, but didn't have the strength to address the matter. She simply nodded and turned her gaze back to the setting sun.

"He'll be alright. He just needs to rest. It's a good thing that his family's gone for the summer or else we'd have a whole other set of problems on our hands, ne."

"When do you think he'll wake up?"

"I can't say, Kon." A silence vibrated through the air and the little plush toy hopped down from Rukia's lap.

"Take good care of him, onee-san. Let me know if you need any comfort!" he said cheerily as he strolled out of the room, purposefully lightening his attitude. Rukia smiled at him briefly, exhaustedly. She picked up a cup of cold tea that she had forgotten about nearly two hours before and held it in her hands like the keystone to her archway of emotions. If she let go of the cup, she would break down. The tighter she held on to it, the harder she clenched her teeth, the fewer tears would fall to her cheeks.

A tear splashed the cold, dark waters of her tea and she bit her lip, hiding her eyes beneath her black waves of hair. With a deep, strangled breath she regained her composure and gripped her ceramic cup with whitened knuckles. A raspy cough caught her attention and she turned her eyes, wide with shock, towards the bed. Ichigo's intense amber eyes looked at her with a twinge of pain, his brow furrowed with confusion and exhaustion.

"I-ichigo?" she whispered.

"Rukia." His fingers felt the sheets next to his side and stretched towards Rukia weakly. She hesitated in taking his hand, but let their fingertips touch, sending a bolt of electricity through her stomach. She felt her cheeks burn and Ichigo smiled meekly.

"You stupid boy! Why did you have to do this?" Rukia sobbed, anger and relief overwhelming her. Ichigo let his grin spread a little farther, a chuckle escaping his lips. Rukia looked up at him, a tear pouring down her lashes carelessly. She wiped it away hastily and dried her eyes, allowing nothing but the redness of her face hint that she was so upset.

"I like keeping you safe, Rukia. I want to protect you," he confessed as his eyes began to flutter shut again. She watched him quietly as he drifted back into sleep, their fingers still brushed against each other. When his features became peaceful once again, she pulled away from the bed and paced the room thinking frantically about his words but quickly pushed them aside. As night settled in, she returned to the kitchen, brushing his old rags white again with bleach and hanging them out to dry. Grabbing new bandages and her sponge, she filled the bowl with fresh water and walked upstairs. It had been a decent six hours since she had taken a look at the wounds. She wanted to make sure they had closed properly.

"Kon?" she called out quietly, swinging the door open to Yuzu's room. The toy was sound asleep, face down on the pillows. A soft snore raked from his throat and Rukia closed the door silently, hoping he stayed asleep for the remainder of the night. When Rukia had returned with Ichigo, he had gone ballistics and was smacked around the house by the irritable girl. It was high time the poor guy got a break.

Using her hip, Rukia pushed Ichigo's door open and stepped inside. She had kept the desk lamp on and walked to it, placing the bowl of water and new bandages on the towel she had placed on its surface. With great tenderness, she pushed down the sheets covering Ichigo's chest and let herself admire his collarbone and shoulders girlishly. Realizing where her eyes had traveled, she blushed brilliantly and focused herself on his wounds.

Easing his dirtier bandages away from his body, Rukia managed to keep his bleeding to an absolute minimum. She let her fingers feel the sheets underneath his shoulders and found that they were damp and red. She cursed softly under her breath and sat back on her knees, trying to think of a way to remove his sheets.

"Ichigo? Ichigo, wake up," she said quietly, tapping his cheek. His eyes pulled themselves open and looked calmly at her while she pulled the edges of his sheets away from the corners of his mattress.

"Yes?" he whispered.

"I need you to roll over. It'll be painful," she cautioned, taking a hold of his shoulder and hip. Slowly he strained himself and pulled himself over. She felt under his side for the edge of his sheets and tugged them out from under his body. He winced and Rukia could tell his grip was white-hot upon his pillow. She put three folded, thick towels under his back and unknotted his old bandages, pulling them from his body and grabbing her sponge. She felt his eyes burn holes in the wall next to his bed and was silent as she brushed away the blood on his back. She let him lie gently back down on the new, crisp towels and threw his sheets in a garbage bag.

No words were exchanged as Rukia's gentle hands washed away the blood on Ichigo's abdomen. He simply watched her eyes as she worked, healing his wounds to the best of her depleted ability. His skin rippled with excitement as her fingers brushed his skin and wished he had the strength to fight against her, to push her away. He did not want to admit that he enjoyed feeling her fingertips sooth his wounds and heat his flesh. The last three days had been a haze, hearing and feeling her but unable to speak or open his eyes. If only he could remain in that haze.

"Do you want to try eating?" she asked quietly. Ichigo swallowed roughly and nodded his head. His stomach growled awkwardly and Rukia grinned.

"I'll be back soon then. Rest. I'll wake you when your rice is done."

Ichigo watched Rukia leave the room and then turned to look down at his torn abdomen. The bleeding had stopped but when he strained himself to sit, his stomach burned red-hot with pain. Clutching the sheets, he eased himself back to his pillow and listened quietly as Rukia bustled about the kitchen downstairs, mumbling loudly about the directions on the inside of the rice cooker. He smiled to himself, ignoring the itching frustration of being unable to move his torso.

About twenty minutes later, Rukia opened the door, a tray in her hands. She looked proud as she entered the room, displaying her steamed rice with delight. A juice box, complete with straw was placed next to the bowl. She put the tray on the desk and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Don't get up. I don't want to wrap your injuries again," she said sternly. Ichigo let her prop a pillow behind his back to lift his head and watched quietly as she picked up the bowl of rice and chopsticks.

"I can feed myself, Rukia," he said. They shared a glare, a battle of will. Ichigo sighed and Rukia gently placed a small sticky mass of rice in his mouth. She always seemed to win.

"I know you _can_, Ichigo. Like I said, I don't want to bandage you up again," she said as he ate. His stomach gurgled with the taste of food and he felt his hunger flair. He felt like a child being spoon-fed. He always failed to protect people. He always needed to be protected. Why couldn't he just once completely care for her?

Rukia fought a smile as Ichigo took a sip of juice. She put his empty bowl down and reached for a damp cloth. Brushing away a lock of his hair, she sponged away a few drops of blood and dirt gently. He watched her quietly, her expression softening as she paid particular attention to the blemish.

Ichigo caught her hand and she looked down at him, her eyes startled. A small, appreciative smile tugged at the sides of his mouth and he brushed the cloth against her wrist.

"You have blood on your arm," he said, his fingers pushing the cloth across her skin weakly. She looked at her wrist and saw his blood smeared over her flesh. She pulled away her hand slowly and scrubbed at her arms and hands.

"I-I didn't notice. Sorry," she replied shakily. Ichigo's smile faded and he closed his eyes, falling back into a restless sleep while she cleaned her arms in the basin on his desk. She turned back to him, about to say something but saw his chest rise and fall in a peaceful rhythm. She smiled and sat down at his desk with a book from Urahara's shop, watching the last rays of the day slide behind the horizon.

* * *

A/N: New chapter coming soon! 


	2. Ichigo's Care

A/N: Here's the next chapter! A bit of a switcheroo, and shorter, but the next chapter will take us away from the angst a little.

_Ichigo's Care  
_

* * *

When Ichigo awoke two days later, the birds were chirping in the early morning glow. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the light of the room before turning his head toward Rukia. Her eyes were closed in a restless sleep, her head propped up against her forearm. He looked down at his stomach and tentatively lifted one of the linens covering his wounds. He was happy to see that they had completely lost the glisten of fresh blood and much smaller than what he remembered from the fight.

Rukia breathed sharply and Ichigo's eyes immediately swept over her form, looking for injuries. Her skin was pale and her eyes sunken. It was obvious she'd not slept or eaten in several days. Her usually silken hair was matted and unruly in the early morning light.

"Rukia?" Ichigo whispered. He repeated her name a few times, but got no reply. Carefully, he sat up and found that the ache in his stomach was now just a dull pain and quickly let his senses inspect the rest of his body. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and placed a hand on Rukia's shoulder, shaking her slightly. A frown crept over his face when she still refused to wake.

As Ichigo stood, mumbling curses half-heartedly about Rukia's lack of attention, he felt the bottom of his feet twinge with the weight of his body. He stood for a few moments, his hand clutching his desk as the dizzy spell washing over him subsided. Rukia's slight form was bent pitifully in his chair and he watched her shallow breath for several minutes before finally using what strength he had to pull her onto his bed and cover her. He felt one of his wounds rip a little, but when he inspected it, was relieved that only a trickle of blood stained his skin.

"Stupid girl," he grumbled, sitting down next to the small shinigami. He brushed her hair out of her face and his features softened slightly, only showing a glimpse of emotion behind his scowl. "Why do you always have to push yourself too far?"

He persuaded his weak body off the bed with shaky limbs and limped down the stairs. He'd be damned if she was going to get away with hurting her body for his sake. Warming up some cream bread in the microwave oven and preparing some rice, Ichigo made sure he ate as well. A creak on the stairs caught his attention and he turned.

"Ichigo!" Kon yelled, attaching himself to Ichigo's leg. He looked down with slight surprise and simply turned back to the rice, shoveling it into a bowl with some salmon and seaweed flakes.

"Get off, Kon," he warned, shaking his leg. The stuffed animal skidded across the tiles and scrambled back to his feet.

"Where's onee-san? Shouldn't you still be asleep?" he asked suspiciously. Whipping out some pompoms, the toy began to cheer radically. "Ooooh, are you making her breakfast in bed?! THAT'S SO SWEEEEET! Two love birds! Oh but if only _I_ could hug her between those voluptuous moun–"

"SHUT UP KON!" Ichigo yelled, a vein bulging on his forehead. He pushed himself into a coughing fit and held his chest in an attempt to soften the force to his diaphragm.

"Oops! My bad!" Kon said, whirling and twirling around the kitchen. He hummed to himself as he danced up the stairs in an attempt to escape the shinigami's wrath. Ichigo watched him, growling and red-faced. Picking up the bowl and a hot glass of tea, he made his way back up to his room. As he approached the bed, he saw the toy lion stealthily making his way up the sheets. With a nonchalant kick, Ichigo shoved him into the closet and shut the door.

"Oi! Open up! You've had her for four days! SHARE THE LOVE!" he whimpered, pounding on the door.

"If you don't shut your trap, she'll wake up!" Ichigo hissed against the door. He made a few more threats before turning away from the closet, rolling his eyes.

Rukia was still and her skin was ghostly white. For a fleeting moment, Ichigo thought she may actually be dead, but brushed the idea away with a rough mental shove. He sat the food on his desk and shook her shoulders gently.

"Rukia? Rukia, you need to eat. I brought you food," Ichigo said with frustration. Her eyes fluttered open hesitantly and she gasped, looking at where she was lying.

"Ichigo! You need to be in bed, what am I doing in here?! Baka!" she yelled, sitting quickly. His hands were still on her shoulders and he held her down. He saw her arms shaking, trying to keep her upright beneath the weight of his arms and he growled.

"I got you food."

"What?!"

"You need to eat. You passed out on my desk."

"I'm fine, now stop holding me down!" she said with gritted teeth, resisting the great urge to hit or kick him.

"Shut up and lay back down!"

"No!"

"Do it!"

"Why?!"

"Because I'm trying to take care of you, damnit!" he blurted angrily. They stared at each other for a moment and both turned a deep shade of pink. Rukia stopped struggling and eased herself back on the pillow, her eyes turned away from him. It was as much as her pride could allow her to surrender.

"Well it's good to see you back as your old self," she lashed quietly. Ichigo sighed and grabbed the bowl of rice, pulling a mouthful onto the chopsticks. He remembered her feeding him at some point in the last week, but could hardly count on his sense of time at the moment. With his free hand he pulled her chin back toward him and held the chopsticks firmly in his hands. They shared another devilish stare, one that Ichigo actually won. Rukia opened her mouth and took the bite of rice without complaint.

"You should probably take a shower," he said after a few moments of silent eating. Rukia looked at him, perplexed.

"A shower?"

"Yeah, you're starting to smell."

"At least I don't smell like burnt flesh."

"Shut up."

Another silence ensued. Kon could be heard mumbling incoherently from the closet and both could almost imagine him with his arms crossed in the corner. Rukia shifted uncomfortably under the covers and Ichigo inclined his head.

"Ichigo."

"Aa."

"What's a shower?"

He blinked, chopsticks paused midair.

"A…a bath. Only the water sprays down at you instead of you sitting in it."

"Oh."

Rukia finished her bowl of rice and quickly gulped down her tea. The color in her skin became rosy and healthy again as she hopped out of bed and motioned for Ichigo to lie back down. He shook his head.

"I'm going to show you how to take a shower."

* * *

A/N: I know, it _sounds_ like he's going to try something right? Or something is accidentally going to happen? Or it'll just be WAY too OOC to be considered good? You'll just have to find out, but I guarantee the latter isn't true at all. TGK 


	3. Trust Me

A/N: I think I forgot to say that I don't own Bleach or anything to do with it. Just my plotlines! Ta TGK

P.S. In Japan, the toilet and bath are in separate rooms, so I'll refer to the bathroom as a steam room, not to be confused with the toilet ah, room. Yeah…

_Hakama_ – the pants the shinigami wear

_Gi_ – the shirt that matches the pants that the shinigami wear

_Tobe _– those two-toed socks that we all wished we could wear everyday…that the shinigami wear

_Trust Me_

* * *

Ichigo leaned heavily on the doorframe of the steam room and Rukia walked in, clutching a towel to her chest. They were both rather quiet as they made their way down the hall. She had only piped up once, when Ichigo had stumbled on the corner of a rug. He had melted away her worries with an encouraging smile as he straightened and pointed towards the door at the end of the hallway. After that, she hadn't said a word.

As she turned to look back at her host, Rukia noticed a trickle of blood seeping from between the bandages on his chest. His shinigami uniform hid all but that small patch of linen and she craned her neck with concern furrowing her brow, trying to secretly assess any other damage to his body. Ichigo's intense gaze caught hers and she looked away, a little embarrassed.

Ichigo slid out of his sandals and tobe with some difficulty and slid the door to the bath open. A showerhead hung on the wall a few inches above his ruffled hair, pointed down towards the tile. As he rolled the clackity, riveted cover off the large steel tub of hot water next to it, he hid a hand pressed against his abdomen. Before Rukia could utter a word, he interrupted.

"Under the sink," he began over his shoulder, "there should be a plastic bowl of soap and things." Rukia hung her towel over the edge of the porcelain basin and reached her hand into the cabinet below, producing a light blue bowl full of soaps, shampoos, conditioners and miscellaneous things she couldn't quite find a name for. When she turned back toward the steam room, she found the windows were getting cloudy, the air heavy with hot moister. The tension in her body began to ease slowly and she sighed contently, happy to finally find a grain of inner peace in her week.

She picked up her towel and wobbled into the tiled room, her arms so full she could barely see over the mound she carried. She tripped over the slide guard of the door and tumbled forward into Ichigo's steady chest. He bit a small groan of pain and held her shoulders tightly as the sting subsided. Rukia felt her cheeks heat with a blush of embarrassment and shame. She should have been more careful. Ichigo waited until he was sure she had her footing before letting his hands slide off her arms. For some reason, they seemed to want to linger there, feeling her delicate skin beneath his grasp. After a short moment of closeness, Ichigo turned his eyes away from hers and focused on the corner of the tile room.

"Can you see the spout on the wall behind me?"

"Yes."

"That's where the water sprays down from. You turn the knobs beneath it, pull up on the lever and it'll work." His voice was beginning to crack with exhaustion and standing straight was becoming hard to endure. A few of his wounds had opened, but he was thankful for the black hakama he wore. It hid the fresh blood from Rukia's eyes, and he didn't have the heart to tell her that when she had tripped it had caused him blinding pain. She would _never_ know that.

"You'll do something stupid to open your wounds further if I let you out of my sight," Rukia scorned, glaring with hidden concern. Ichigo snorted and watched the mirror above the sink fog, obscuring their reflections. All he could see in the milky grey of the steam was a large black shadow. His shadow.

"I'll stay then," he said. It was impossible for him to argue. His heart was tired, his spirit scarred. Rukia's complexion became pink and she took her turn to look away from his raw, exposed soul.

"Alright." Their voices were muffled by the heavy dampness of the steam room and faded quickly from the air. Neither moved as even the looming figure in the mirror was engulfed by the heat of the bath. Rukia found great interest in the pattern of the tiled floor and Ichigo pushed her gently to the side with a stiff arm. She looked back at him about to say…she wasn't really sure what she would have said. His eyes were closed, but even then he felt her hesitation.

"Don't worry, Rukia. I'm not Kon. You can put your clothes in the laundry basket. My eyes won't open, I promise," he assured her. She murmured her acceptance and he heard her shuffling toward the sink. The sound of the shuffling of clothing, a zipper. Despite his resolve, Ichigo had to squeeze his eyes closed as his heart raced, his breath shallow and constricting.

Rukia shrieked girlishly and Ichigo's eyes snapped open as he stumbled forward. Before he could stop himself, not that he would want to in this case, he chambered his leg to the side and kicked the small, golden object flying towards Rukia out the window.

"KON!" Rukia yelled, grasping the window ledge. Ichigo clutched his side and held tightly to the sink. He chanced a look at Rukia, her jeans unbuttoned and falling from her delicate waist, her shirt pressed modestly against her breasts. He clamped his eyes shut, trying to expel the image from his mind. It was no use. The vision engraved itself in the wounded shinigami's memory as Kon's pathetic pleas cut through his mental surrender to the guilty images.

"Nee-san! Nee-san, why can't I take a bath with you! That redheaded brat locked me up in the closet! I NEED COMFORT! Nee-san!!!" Kon's whimpers faded in the quiet of the early morning. The toy melted into the gold of the sun as its first rays could be seen reaching over the skyline of the city.

But Ichigo wasn't watching. His eyes were shut tightly, his shoulders heaving with suppressed, ragged breaths. He heard Rukia slam the window closed with a huff and stilled his lungs, afraid she may banish him from her company. All the moisture in the air would make his skin so cold if he left the heat of the bath. He didn't want to deal with the goose bumps he would get if he went back to his room. Early morning was always cruel if you weren't warm…

"Are you okay, Ichigo?" Rukia asked, placing her hand on his shoulder. He tensed immediately under her touch, knowing that the body attached to those delicate fingers was bare. He nodded and flashed her a grin.

"I was just surprised. That's all," he lied. Rukia thought on his words for a moment before accepting them and pulling away. Ichigo listened guiltily as the sound of discarded clothing drifted to his ears, thudding against his eardrums. He pushed himself away from the sink and walked blindly to the sliding door of the tiled part of the room, letting his fingers glide across the wall as a guide. He leaned gingerly against the wall and waited, finding the darkness of his eyelids almost unbearable.

Rukia padded softly across the floor and carefully stepped past Ichigo. She felt her skin brush against his hakama and blushed brilliantly. He stepped a few feet farther into the bath to let her in without contact and settled himself back against the tile.

Humming to herself, Rukia looked at the wall in front of her and chose to pull on the knob on the faucet first. When nothing happened, her brow furrowed with a little sizzle of frustration and she inspected the last two turning handles, choosing the one on the right after several moments of indecision.

A rushing whistle of water through the pipes signaled the release of ice-cold water on Rukia's head. She yelped and jumped away with wide eyes, crashing into Ichigo's ribs. He groaned loudly, but kept his eyes closed. Rukia stumbled away as quickly as she could, the guilt of causing him pain penetrating her like a stab in the heart. She looked down at the warm liquid on her arm and let her hand fall away from it shamefully.

"Ichigo, you're bleeding again," she said quietly. He sucked in an aching breath and nodded, easing himself back onto the tile wall.

"Turn the left knob, baka. It'll give you hot water."

Rukia looked at his grim face and the blood on her fingertips. Her skin was freezing, but Ichigo's wounds were opening again, left and right. She couldn't heal well in her gigai, her reiatsu still feeble and incomplete. But she could try. With determination in her stride, she walked through the sting of cold water and followed his instructions, waiting for the relaxing heat of the shower to cascade down upon her before picking up a wash cloth in the blue bowl of supplies. She rang it out and walked back up to Ichigo.

He could feel her right in front of him. It was maddening. What should he…He couldn't do anything. She was so…too close. She was too close. Ichigo breathed sharply when her damp hands pulled on the sides of his gi, easing it off his shoulders. He kept his eyes closed, vehemently refusing to break his promise despite the electricity she was causing to pulse through his veins.

"I need to heal these before I do anything else," she said quietly. The water dripping from her lashes made it hard to look up into her companion's confused expression. As the small, warm droplets of water plopped down on her lips, she tasted them with great appreciation. She had really needed the heat of the steam room to relax her body.

"Just get your shower over with so I can go back to bed," Ichigo practically pleaded with her, trying to keep his voice hard, but failing miserably. As Rukia's hands glided across his bandages, he felt his blood boil. He was helpless to stop her, really. He couldn't open his eyes, his movements were sluggish. Simply put, he was too tired to fight against her. What really made his body crackle with awareness was that he wasn't sure if he would stop her even if he could. As his wounds were unwrapped, her slender fingers working nimbly over his scarred skin, he curled his hands into fists. He would have given anything to grasp her shoulders, push her away, and run where he could let his thoughts fade from their intensity. The loudness of his internal voice was dizzying and commanding. But Ichigo found, that no matter what, all he could do was hold himself still.

"I'll take you back to your room after I've healed you. It's not _nearly_ as messy to do it in here anyway," Rukia waved off after a brief silence. She was quiet as she let her hands move guiltily over Ichigo's skin like they had been all week. Her touch was too tender and too frequent, but the silk of his rippling muscles was too addictive. She couldn't have stopped even if she wanted to. He'd never know. She was too ashamed to let him know. Their relationship was merely an exchange of strength, a partnership. It would be unacceptable to breach the trust and duty in that bond.

The bandages fell like the bleached flesh of freshly skinned snakes to the floor, a matted lump of bloodied reminders being washed away by the roar of the shower behind the two shinigami. Rukia lifted her warm washcloth and touched Ichigo's chest with its corner. He flinched and she put a calming hand on his side. He immediately grew still and his breath became shallow. His eyes flickered and Rukia watched them expectantly.

"You promised you wouldn't open your eyes," she reminded him, her voice even. He nodded and turned his head away, clenching his fists tighter.

Rukia brooded while she cleaned his stomach, her own body beginning to tingle with the cold of the evaporating water on her skin. She had been tending his wounds for over a week and they were still opening. He was still weak and tired. It was her fault he had been injured, and her shame that she was unable to heal him properly. The lacerations and lashes across his flesh would heal in time, but he'd always have scars. Neither would ever be able to forget, and she would never be able to forgive herself for it.

"I'm sorry I can't heal you well," she murmured sadly. Ichigo inclined his head towards her voice. She rung her small towel under the sparkling droplets of the shower and pulled on his waist so he would turn. He caught her shoulder with a steady hand and though his eyes were still shut, she could imagine his orbs looking into hers.

"You have nothing to apologize for. If not for you, I wouldn't be alive."

"You wouldn't be injured in the first place," she retorted half-heartedly. Ichigo blushed faintly, feeling her bare shoulder under his palm. Her collarbone fell delicately from his fingers and he could feel her slick locks of hair hugging her neck. He swallowed a small lump in his throat and his lips parted, clutching at desperate excuses for his gesture.

"You're cold," he said finally. "Finish your shower and dry off."

"But I haven't wrapped your chest ye–"

"You can do that once you've finished. The water will get cold again if you don't hurry," he rushed, his voice trembling a little. His expressionless face turned away from Rukia and he pulled away from her hands, leaving his sandals as he traced the wall to the door and shuffled out into the hallway. Only after he was safely in the hallway did he open his eyes, the sensation of Rukia's naked body pressed against his hakama lingering on his skin.

* * *

A/N: Hmm…perhaps a bit OOC, but I can imagine these circumstances. It's hard to write a shower scene for them that's IC though… I tried to stay true! Oh, and **ViktorValentine**! That kick was just for you! 


	4. Crumbling Walls

A/N: I don't really have anything to say. Is that bad?

_Crumbling Walls_

* * *

Ichigo sat gingerly on the edge of his bed, a towel spread out over the sheets to catch any blood that might stain the white cotton. He listened to the sound of rushing water through the pipes in the wall, the cascading of raindrops on Rukia's skin. His physical weakness had surely induced his mental weakness as well. It was very hard to think of anything but her touch. 

He closed his eyes and willed some of the pain away. His lap and waist felt cold from the chill of Rukia's impact, his hakama was fairly soaked as well. Though his wounds felt clean and refreshed, his flesh formed cruel goose bumps and he clamped his jaw in an attempt to not shiver.

Pulling on the lip of his desk with whitened fists, Ichigo stood with some difficulty. He balanced himself and slowly began to untie the front of his gi. It would feel better to be in fresh clothing anyway. As the front knot came undone, the back of his hakama fell away from his waist. He tried in vain to reach the back knot which held the front of his uniform together, but it was nearly impossible, the wounds on his stomach stinging painfully when he tried to extend his fingers toward the small of his back.

His door swung open quietly and he froze, Rukia standing quite soaked in her bath towel beneath the frame of the entranceway. They both blushed brilliantly, having always been able to avoid moments like these in the past. Rukia walked in after a moment and shut the door behind her, hoping to keep the draft of the house away from the room. Neither of them could afford to be sick at a time like this.

Ichigo looked away guiltily, having promised he wouldn't look at her. Rukia, though he couldn't see it, grinned with appreciation and closed the distance between them. Ichigo inhaled sharply when her small, cold fingers began working at the knot on the back of his hakama.

"You don't need to –"

"You know you wouldn't have been able to reach it, Ichigo," she replied sternly. He closed his eyes slowly as he felt the garment drop to the floor. Rukia pulled him carefully to face her and untied the small bows holding his gi closed before pulling the robe gently off his arms. He opened his eyes and found her staring up at them, innocently inquisitive, holding her towel tightly about her chest.

As the silence continued to get louder, Ichigo licked his lips, trying to find words. Rukia put a hand on his chest and his lungs shuddered. He was ashamed to think that he wished her hands were warm and he was unscathed, standing there in his room. Rukia looked down at his wounds and began to heal them with what little power she had left. Her hands glowed a cool blue, but her touch became hot, electric. Ichigo sighed as the pain receded, his injuries healing from within to shallow the wounds he still had left. The hole in his shoulder had slowly been reduced to a deep tusk wound, his back almost completely healed save a large scar. Despite these improvements, he could feel that his injuries were still serious, though no longer life-threatening. What seemed like hours ticked by as the shivering shinigami worked her kidou on his body, like the caress of a caring hand when a fever has struck you bed ridden. As Rukia swayed with exhaustion those long moments later, Ichigo caught her shoulders and held her up as the light being transferred in her touch faded away, leaving a tingling sensation on his skin.

"Stop worrying about me and get dressed," Ichigo said sternly, his grip on her shoulders tight. She smiled, a bit of her softer nature peeking through the cracks of her stony façade. She put a hand on his wrist, but Ichigo held her firmly, refusing to let her manipulate him into letting her become more weary and sick. As they held their gaze, fighting will against will for the victory, Rukia's fist slackened on her towel, which pooled down to her hips, sliding noiselessly to the floor. She hadn't meant to let it go, but for her weariness…She hadn't noticed her fingers slipping.

Neither moved, but the tension between them became thick enough to cut. Ichigo swallowed hard. He wasn't sure what to do, but continued to look in Rukia's eyes, making sure they strayed nowhere else.

As Rukia continued to look up into her companion's eyes, she felt herself become exposed, her soul, her mind, everything. Nothing was left that Ichigo didn't know. Nothing was left that he didn't accept in her. A few scars pricked her skin, evidence of past battles and hardships, but he didn't see them. He only saw her eyes.

Overcome with the shock of the impressive amount of trust they shared in each other, Rukia choked, blinking away from Ichigo's intense gaze. She hesitated, her own painful past rebelling against her actions, her arms held back by tight chains of forceful loneliness. Finally, she mustered the strength to ignore the bonds of her past and pushed herself gently against Ichigo's wall of a chest, her small hands balled into fists upon the small of his back. A great burden was lifted from her soul as she gave herself over to his protection and care, knowing that he of all people wouldn't manipulate or hurt her.

Ichigo stared at the gaping door of the closet, Rukia's things spread out upon a small, folded futon. Her Chappy doll, the pink keychain on her backpack…her various romance manga. He wrapped his arms around her slowly, forgetting the dull pain of his battered body, only seeing her frailty and yearning for support spread out on her bedding screaming at him. The confining walls of the closet darkened the space ominously and he felt the impression of a cage in its partitions, one built for a beaten-down animal kept for "safekeeping." Ichigo felt ashamed for not seeing it sooner and tightened his hold on Rukia's slender shoulders.

"You should put some clothes on, Rukia," he murmured after a quiet moment of embrace. Rukia nodded, her cheek brushing up against Ichigo's skin like a fine silk. He bit his lip, wanting to pull her closer, to comfort and protect her... But when she stepped away, his eyes were already closed, waiting for her to tell him it was okay to open them again.

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A/N: I know, a very short chapter for this story, but the ending was too perfect to force the chapter to continue. I'll have another up soon though, I promise! 


	5. Just Tell Me To Open My Eyes

A/N: Okay okay, so I was told to just get the suspense over with. So! Here's a little _more_ romantic, just for you guys (though I don't know how you don't explode already). Enjoy!

_Just Tell Me To Open My Eyes_

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As Rukia turned away from her companion, a sadness crept over her features. The kind of sadness that was invisible until no one was looking. She picked up her towel, dragging it along the floor as she shuffled to her closet. Ichigo listened quietly as her pajamas ruffled while she put them on and hopped up onto her futon. He could hear her small sigh as she began to close the sliding door and his eyes snapped open, his hand outstretched. He couldn't stand that sound. 

"Wait!" Rukia stopped, her eyebrow raised inquisitively at Ichigo's pose. He looked around warily and laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"What, Ichigo? I'm tired, just let me go to bed," Rukia said, her voice more pleading than she would have wanted to admit. She simply wanted to let the dark of the closet absorb the images in her mind, the warmth still lingering on her body from his touch. She wanted it all swallowed and forgotten.

"Just don't sleep in there," Ichigo said, walking towards her. She blinked, her head tilted with confusion. A bit of his scowl chipped away as he gently pulled her hands, leading her from her small quarters. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed, expression one of surprise, but still she let her feet carry her off her bedding.

"Why can't I sleep in my closet?"

"Because that's just what it is. A closet. Why would I make you sleep in a closet?" Ichigo asked, a little befuddled himself. Rukia laughed sarcastically.

"Then where would I sleep Ichigo? Did you want to take turns? I could sleep on the carpet, if you'd prefer. Oh, or maybe I could sleep in _your_ bed," Rukia retaliated heatedly. Ichigo kept his face stoic, his eyes intense and silencing. Rukia's argument faded away when she tried to steal her hand from his grasp. He held them tightly in his grasp, his thumb caressing her wrist. She felt her body radiate with nervous energy.

"That's exactly what I mean," he said quietly, crimson cheeks betraying his determined scowl. Rukia blinked, looking back at her small, cave-like refuge. It seemed so far away.

"Stop."

"Stop what?" Rukia growled.

"Looking back like you have somewhere to cage yourself in and hide. You can't hide from me anymore, Rukia," Ichigo said, pulling her gaze towards him. She looked up at him with sincere fear as she felt his eyes calm her unwilling soul. His wide shoulders looked so strong, his hands so large and comforting. He was mesmerizing, a spiral pulling her in.

"Why can't I?" she asked quietly, prodding him for the right answer. If she could keep this one thing from him, she knew she was safe. She knew that she would be able to keep herself away. She was surprised and almost hurt when that familiar smirk spread across his lips even though his eyes were sincere.

"Don't ask me questions you already know the answer to, baka," he murmured, his breath nearly tickling her cheek. She fought back a smile viciously.

"I still don't know what you want me to do," Rukia said, her voice wavering. Ichigo growled with exasperation and cupped her neck, pulling her towards him without restraint. She breathed sharply as his lips met hers, her heart pounding against her ribcage, nearly breaking free. His hand slid to the small of her back, pushing her shirt away from his fingers so he could feel her bare skin again, warm and inviting. He bent over Rukia's small frame as he let himself go, his body melting into her tentative touch. Their lips met repeatedly in a timid passion as she let her hands pool over Ichigo's form, feeling every muscle, every surge of power emanating from his skin.

Rukia wrenched herself from Ichigo's embrace, her breath quick and shallow. He watched her blink with realization, afraid that she would slip like mercury from his arms. He licked her taste from his lips and reached out to her again, his hand caressing her cheek with uncharacteristic tenderness.

"Stop trying to get away from me," Ichigo said softly, almost hurt. Rukia tried to look away but his hands cupped her cheeks, forcing her compliance. "The Rukia I know doesn't back off and doesn't get scared. What's wrong with you? Why can't you just _talk_ to me?"

"Because I'm in love with you!.._ Damnit_!" Rukia yelled, her frustration and inability to move away from him causing her emotions to erupt. A tear fell from her lashes and she ripped herself from Ichigo, pacing fervishly about the room. She cursed silently to herself, arms wrapped snuggly about her chest. She raised a shaky hand to her lips as she mumbled.

"I can't endanger people I care for, Ichigo, and my life is too dangerous for you to become wrapped up in," she said heatedly.

"That's no reason to me," he replied.

"Of _course_ it's not! You're too stubborn."

"_I'm_ too stubborn?"

"Yes!" The silence of the room cracked with the faint echo of Rukia's voice. She looked around with wide eyes and pushed her hair from her face several times before issuing a frustrated yell and falling against a stark white wall. Ichigo walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders forcefully.

"You can't stay away from me, Rukia. That's one thing I won't let you try to do," he said quietly, his gaze intense. They stood frozen for several minutes as Rukia calmed herself, slumped against his hands. She seemed deflated and scared, having finally been pulled away from the walls of her inner fortress.

"Why won't you just let me go back to my closet? I just want to sleep," she said finally, her voice shaky and delicate. Ichigo swallowed his pride and shook her, making her look up at him. He brushed away the tears crawling across her cheeks and felt her lean her head against his fingers with great shame.

"Because you aren't the only one who's fallen in love, Rukia," he whispered. Rukia collapsed against him as his words filled her swollen heart and she breathed quickly, pushing back the tears that wanted to fall so badly. He could almost hear her apologizing over and over in her mind to her brother, to Renji, to her captain and Kaien, Urahara and so many others that depended on her to uphold some kind of selfless honour.

"I don't care if you cry as long as you let me protect you. You're the only one I've ever been able to protect on my own, you know," he confessed, pulling her into his arms again, "I couldn't protect my mother, I couldn't beat Kariya on my own either. Even after I took that blow, you had to clean up after my mess. Even you I can't quite take care of without help yet. But I will, I promise." Rukia thought about the tusk that had nearly killed Ichigo a mere week before. Ichigo held her so close, she felt that she was a bar of soap, ready to slip from his fingers. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, throwing her weight on him, not allowing her old self to slither away. Immediately she felt his body support her, hold her up like she knew he would. A smile surfaced through the tears and she laughed huskily, almost choking on her own sadness.

They had a silent conversation, both confessing passionately to the other in their minds, holding each other tightly. Ichigo pulled Rukia into his arms and kept her eyes on his with a raw, caring caress of his gaze. She set her jaw as she was lifted and pulled tightly to his chest.

"I can walk, you know."

"I know you can," Ichigo said as he placed her in his bed gently. She looked at his chest, a smear of blood plaguing his skin.

"Damnit, Ichigo, stop fooling around. Let me bandage you u –"

"Let me clean up my own mess for a change," he interrupted, grabbing a damp cloth from the basin on his desk. He let his sight stray to Rukia's neck and felt her tense as he unbuttoned the top of her pajamas, pulling the cloth aside, his fingers brushing against the curve of her breasts tenderly. He dabbed the linen against her skin where he had bled and carefully checked her shirt for stains, glad to find none. She watched him, her cheeks rosy, eyes large with unshed tears threatening to spill over her lashes. He wrapped some dry cloth over his chest and stood to walk away.

"Aren't you curious?" she asked, almost bitterly. Ichigo turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Curious about?"

"You've had so many chances, but you haven't taken advantage of it."

"It's not that I don't want to…look at you, Rukia," he struggled, words constricted with nervousness as he finally understood her meaning. "I…You haven't told me it's okay to open my eyes, yet."

Rukia watched him turn back towards her, his face almost pained, completely bare for her to read. Like a book with a torn spine, tattered cover.

"I'm telling you to open your eyes," she said quietly as she propped herself up on her elbows, her jaw set. Ichigo looked at her coolly from over his shoulder.

"I want a lot more than to just open my eyes, Rukia," he said, almost too soft for her to hear. She watched him leave the room, a look of shock on her face. Her fingers flew to her lips, unsure as to what had been unleashed in her companion. He seemed so much calmer, more protective, his energy becoming a low, sure growl.

The late afternoon rays were beginning to fade on the horizon as Rukia turned her gaze to the window. The sun's warmth shone down on her as she drifted off into a restless nap, hugging Ichigo's pillow tightly. As she dreamed, she could feel his soul engulfing her, no longer hiding from her, as she could no longer hide from him.

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A/N: Hope that was enjoyable! Here is where the rating may change. Not decided yet. Tell me if you want a mature chapter or not in a review! The more reviews saying yes, the more likely there will be an explosion of romanticness. 


	6. Interlude of Thought

A/N: No, this isn't the mature chapter. It's a short chapter to sort of warm up to the _idea_ of a mature chapter!

**Review your thoughts!** How many of you would read my original works if I posted them online? Let me know in a review please!

_Interlude of Thought_

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Ichigo paced the living room heatedly, a lion struggling to break free of his chains. He ran a hand through his fiery hair as he continued to wear down a hole in the carpet, his shoulders swaggering with exhaustion. The white noise of the television, a peppy commercial with bubbly creatures and a dancing little girl, sounded in the background, as insatiable as chewing gum for the viewer, but just as addictive. Ichigo looked at the screen as the girl exclaimed something about her product and flashed a victory sign at the screen. He growled a moment before wandering away, dropping into his chair at the kitchen table.

The wood cabinets surrounding him gleamed with an old, stained comfort, completely settled into the smell and feel of the clinical atmosphere beyond a discreet door in the corner of the room. It was hidden like most home businesses in the area, desperately trying to divide home and work. Ichigo looked at it intensely, the silver doorknob gleaming in the light of the kitchen, the world outside quiet and dark as late evening settled. He seemed unable to divide any part of his life anymore. Wherever there should have been a border, like subjects written on the chalkboard, all he found was a blur, like when dry ink on a piece of paper was blurred by the rain, a depressed sunset motif of violet and blue hues. Those colors made him start quietly. Rukia. She was everywhere: School, Home, Soul Society, Shinigami Duty…Everywhere. Blurring his life like a splash of water on a camera.

Her reiatsu was so faint above him, she couldn't have been anything but asleep or dead. Somehow, he couldn't think of her sleeping, but only suspended like some freakish twist of Snow White, waiting for him. He glanced up at the ceiling and pushed himself from the table with an exasperated sigh, vibrating lightly with feline annoyance.

Ichigo approached the coat tree next to the genkan (area where shoes are put at the entrance to a house) and attempted to contain his quick, agitated pace as he shuffled things roughly in his school blazer's pockets. A small jolt in Rukia's dreams made him freeze and he waited, trying to sense any danger that may be above. Satisfied, he continued his frantic search.

"_Damnit_!" he yelled, ripping his hand away from his jacket as he turned back toward the kitchen. It wasn't there. His Soul License wasn't in his pocket. He guessed that he had put it in his backpack instead. With a thoughtful expression, he looked up the stairs toward his quiet room, weighing his choices. He wanted to vent and forget everything that had just happened, to forget Rukia's lips. With a frustrated sniff of surrender, he dragged himself back into the kitchen and leaned his weight heavily against his elbows on the counter. He hit his head against the cabinet behind him with an irritated grunt.

He…Why had he said that? There was no way to live it down, no way to undo his kiss, their embrace…Her skin was addictive, far too smooth and creamy for him to keep himself away from now. He could already feel himself begin to brood, growling at the thought of Keigo doting on her, Renji grabbing her arm…

He threw a small bag of cookies across the room, listening with some satisfaction as the treats cracked against the refrigerator door and slumped to the ground. He looked at it for several minutes as his anger fizzled away. He was such an idiot. As he ran a hand over his face, the back of his eyelids swam in that inky violet sea, lapping gently at his mind's eye. He could almost feel her breath as she slept so many rooms away, could imagine her hair cascading down her face. He needed to get out of the house, but with such grizzly mars on his chest, he wouldn't be able to get away with being discreet without taking advantage of his spirit form, every passage to which in his room where _she_ slept. She would wake up, ask him where he was going, and that would be the end of his urgent need to escape.

He slammed his head against the cabinet behind him again with a growl. His body was hot, his knuckles white from holding the counter so tightly. His breath had been ragged and needy, his thoughts bowing his head almost against his will as he stole her lips. He had wanted more, he still wanted more. Not more, _all_. All the struggle, all the civil war that had raged in his mind as he withheld himself, his fists clenched, and he had finally answered his own dreaded question.

If he had the chance and strength to push Rukia away when she was too close, he would never be able to.

Ichigo turned and leaned over the sink, his shoulders hunched as he stared at the streetlamp outside his house. There was no way to deny to himself that his secret daydreams and little glimpses of her thigh or collar bone were simply idle thoughts anymore. He clasped his hands together tightly, recalling words she had spoken, but were nearly forgotten in the wake of their argument. She'd fallen in love with him after all…

He had long suspected that maybe her choice to continue to stay in his closet, despite knowing Inoue who lived alone and had plenty of space, had been out of comfort and dare he say affection. He never brought the idea to light, almost afraid that she would leave him to stay awake alone at night without the comfort of knowing she was a mere door away. He hated to admit that though she was the cause of the storm in his heart, blurring the boundaries of his life, it was a storm that he needed to overcome. He had come to love and depend on its rain, a kind of solemn reminder that everything he held dear was something he needed to protect, a reason for him to live. She was his strength, what allowed him to be the person he had always strived to be. Without her, he'd lose all faith in himself, sink into the haze of the clouds in his heart.

Ichigo looked at the quiet, dark hallway slumbering beyond the staircase and set his jaw. She needed to remain his to protect, to draw strength from. If she supported him, he knew he was right, but without her that blurred line had no purpose. It was just a blemish in his life.

"Rukia…what have you done to me?" he sighed, letting his head fall to his hands. He rubbed his head, spikes of hair spouting from between his fingers. She had told him she loved him. Had that been just a thought that exploded from her mouth? A set of phrase that was common in such heated, affectionate arguments? Ichigo shook his head as he chided himself for thinking she would let such volatile words spew casually from her lips. He let his body remember what she felt like pressed against him and shuddered, his eyes glancing towards the stairs once more.

With sudden resolve, he stood straight and made his way toward the darkened steps. If Rukia could stand behind him and make him feel right, feel whole and just…If she said those words first, was he right to confess himself to her? Would she push him away, even if she said them first? Ichigo had faith that she wouldn't. He needed her touch again, the feel in his tight body becoming almost too much to bear. He knew that Rukia wouldn't push him away because he needed her to blur the limits of his life. He needed her to love him.

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A/N: I hope that was okay! Big M next!

Reviewer thanks: **andraq**, **gonekrazy3000**, **Yessika**, and** FirstxKiss** have been amazing encouragement and inspiration for this fic. Thank you guys so much for your wonderful reviews!


	7. Total Surrender: Part One

A/N: Alright all! I'm working on a broken computer (my puppy ate seven of my keys) so I'm sorry if this has been slow coming!

Goal Announcement: Deeper Care has received alert status for 55 readers and The Shopping Agenda has received 51! Thank you all so much for reading my stories. I wouldn't have tried to complete them without your enthusiasm!

_This has been reposted because of grammatical mistakes. Oopsies! _

_Total Surrender: Part 1_

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Rukia listened as crickets began to chirp in the hills beyond the city, happy for the night that blanketed the world around them. She could feel a whimsical breeze flutter in from the window, a carefree type of cool that soothed her heated flesh. She snuggled farther into Ichigo's pillow and inhaled his spicy scent. Most men that had attempted to get close to her over the years had been earthy, the metallic twinge of battle a permanent aroma on their skin which she could never quite allow to get too close to her exposed inner self. That smell, the stench of blood and guilt, had always been something that she was wary of, a type of reminder of all the suffering and pain the Shinigami subjected themselves to whether through battling Hollows or battling each other.

Ichigo's spice was different. Reserved and hard to catch, but young and lively. Though death was on him, he barely smelled of the fear, the greed. There was no guilt attached to his actions, because every fight for Ichigo was a fight to protect someone, not to gain something. She inhaled the scent once again, letting it pull her away from the smell of the dirt in Soul Society, where even crickets were afraid to chirp for the coming nightfall.

Rukia caught a silhouette in the doorway and jumped, her spine jamming painfully at the small of her back with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. Ichigo's figure remained still as she let out a sigh of relief, recognizing his shimmering amber orbs in the pale wash of the moon. He held her eyes to his with an undeniably fierce gaze, the glint in his stare more wild than his normal scowl would permit. He walked slowly to the bed and sat next to her as she raised herself up on her elbows, their eyes never leaving the other, never blinking.

"How do you feel?" Ichigo asked after a longer silence. Rukia noted that he wore a plain white undershirt and flannel pajama pants, which Rukia assumed he'd found in Yuzu's laundry pile. The definition of his muscular frame beneath his shirt made her blush, recalling that he had held her so close only hours ago. His golden embers turned away as he looked up at the bright orb in the skies, its silver light pooling generously upon his features. Rukia glanced at his neck, strong and lean, the curve of his throat a most enthralling arc. She swallowed with some difficultly and licked her lips, watching his expression.

"I'm fine. You're the one to worry about." She tried in vain to sound scolding, but her words came feebly to her lips, a whisper of her worries. Ichigo smiled, his eyes unnervingly steady, his expression a mask of suppressed feral nature. He shook his head and turned back to her.

"I was afraid I had upset you," he said, his voice deep and tender. Rukia blinked away from him, raven locks sheltering her face from the moon's graceful sheen.

"I…wasn't upset. I was…unprepared," Rukia said carefully, selecting her words with great caution. The sound of the crickets seemed too distant now to be comforting anymore.

Rukia kept herself restrained as silence settled over the room like a fine dust. She itched to touch his skin, to feel his hair, his lips. As she raised her hand to brush against his, she forced herself to rub her arm instead, a weak gesture, but the only alternative she had. She looked away from him again, his eyes boring deep, fiery holes in her mind as he read her without bias or scorn, but with something far more intimidating.

"Are you cold?" he asked. She shook her head, letting her hand drop limply into her lap. He nodded and looked away, that fine dust of quietness becoming thicker and more difficult to penetrate by the moment. As he pulled his hard gaze to the window, the ghostly outline of the mountains beyond the city acting as some sort of screen from the rest of the world, from everything outside his room. He felt his chest with a thoughtful hand.

"Would you be able to heal me once more, Rukia? I think maybe that would be all I need," he said softly, his voice burdened with the guilt of asking her the favor. She looked at him and nodded, a small, encouraging smile on her face. He shouldn't ever feel guilty for depending on her. In truth, she secretly enjoyed being needed.

Ichigo turned to her, his unblinking gaze holding hers with such commanding force, she couldn't look away as he lifted his shirt away from his body, letting it fall to the floor. She hesitated as the moon abandoned his crumpled piece of clothing and doted upon his skin, his collarbone sinking with the light into his shoulder as he moved to sit in front of her. Rukia let a little sigh escape her throat as she reached her finger forward towards his wounds. The gruesome reminders splayed across his torso like matted spider webs, mauling his beautiful, smooth skin. She may have thought him so beautifully sculpted that he was demi-god, unable to blemish, scar or age with skin as enchanting as his. Or perhaps he was a dream, cruelly unattainable, but so striking she couldn't help but feel her breath catch. She bit her lip as her fingers touched the heat of his heartbeat, pulsing against her palm like an affectionate animal.

Ichigo let his body melt into her hot magic, though his gaze penetrated her soft features with a raging sense of need. She was so beautiful when she let herself feel uncertain, when she let herself be protected and taken care of. He was there to take the weight of her life for her, so she could let herself go. In truth, he secretly enjoyed being needed.

It was hard for him to stay calm as the heat of her energy filled his body, much more tender than she had ever let it feel before. He could snse her reiatsu climbing his throat, his jaw, feeling his skin in ways she wouldn't allow her fingers to touch him. He wanted to purr so badly. It frustrated him, made his body tense and ready to spring, not being able to purr. A small moan escaped his lungs in a low hum instead, releasing some of the pressure in his mind. Rukia looked at him with an apprehensive eye, but his intense stare softened when she continued to heal him, despite his obvious, guilty enjoyment.

"You were right. You seem to be nearly healed," Rukia said quietly, trying to break the tension between them. Ichigo nodded, afraid that his words would betray his sense of loss as her heat was pulled slowly from his chest, her healing energy fading away. He felt alone somehow, trapped within his own form.

As she began to withdraw her hand from his skin, Ichigo captured her wrist in his gentle grip, his eyes flickering with what Rukia would have interpreted as fear before he quickly returned to his calm but stormy expression. Their bodies seemed suspended, his hand wrapped warmly around her delicate wrist, eyes locked in a questioning, anxious stare. Slowly, Ichigo's fingers became animate once again, running along Rukia's palm, her arm, her fingers. His gesture became more confident as Rukia let the feeling engulf her senses, the sound of skin brushing against skin, the heat of his breath against her palm as her shaky fingers felt his cheek, his jaw, his brow. She could barely contain herself as such nervous energy and excitement pulsed from her heart and spread through her blood like a prickling tingle.

"Rukia…" Ichigo's voice broke her enchantment and she let her thumb come to a stop on his lips, barely parted with the hope that his eyes revealed. She looked up at his golden gaze, her brow furrowed with confusion. A tear pooled upon her lashes as she shook her head.

"Why can't you just push me away?" she asked as she fought with herself to break their contact, physically incapable of removing her thumb from his lips. He looked at her with large, honest eyes and placed his hand on her collar, running his fingers across her throat as he steadied her nervous form.

"I've _never_ wanted to push you away," he whispered, his voice so deep it felt like an oblivion of sweet fantasies finally realized, dreams that had often vexed her sleeping mind. Rukia let her tear go with a rickety breath and Ichigo felt his body crawl forward to pull her into a tenderly commanding kiss, forceful enough to encourage her, but sweet enough to make the movement seem thoughtful and soft.

Rukia could sense so much of her defense evaporate from her body that she felt naked and fragile. Ichigo's mouth traveled down her neck, shocking her skin with a climbing, electric heat. Rukia's gaze drifted to the moon, lounging seductively on its blanket of stars as if mimicking her form upon Ichigo's sheets. She felt her own voice escape her lips, a deep, sensual vibration let loose from the depths of her body. She ran a hand through Ichigo's hair and felt his neck bristle with goose bumps as he shuddered.

Her body calm under his scrutiny, her resolve shimmering in her violet pools, Rukia pushed her small hands against Ichigo's chest. He gently pulled away from her voluptuous taste, afraid she may leave him, but ready to withstand that pain for her sake. His forearms held him aloft with a sturdy strength as he implored Rukia with his eyes, begging her to tell him what was the matter.

Nothing was the matter. Rukia kept his gaze this time, encouraging him to stay still. After a moment to settle their breath, she let her hands fall like rose petals in the snow and slowly, with an encouraging twinge of surrender, pulled the buttons of her pajamas from their confines. Ichigo's breath caught as more or her milky skin was revealed. He closed his eyes briefly to calm his shaking body, the release of the bonds of their relationship falling away with every button.

"You don't have to close your eyes anymore, Ichigo," Rukia said quietly, her voice sounding peculiarly alive, rather than the hollow echo her gigai often produced. He opened his eyes and smiled, his expression for once happy and sincere.

"I wasn't closing them to look away," he whispered, a small laugh flowing from his breath. His hand stroked her arm, sliding tenderly across her flesh. She beamed softly, like a polished ray of sunshine or perhaps living white gold, Ichigo mused. As his fingers glided across her collarbone, across her sternum, he never looked away from those eyes, glistening like diamonds. The suppleness of her breasts teased his wrist as he navigated her skin. Her hands responded to his touch, allowing her fingers travel his lean stomach, much in the way her reiatsu had seeped into his body, full of tender caring. Neither feeling the urgency they had felt moments before, let their lips met in an almost painfully slow, passionate embrace, savoring the taste of each other's desires.

Gaining more confidence, Ichigo pushed away the sheets that created the barrier between them and let his thumb brush against the hard peeks of Rukia's chest. She pushed herself deeper into his hands and he supported her weight in his palm, so slight and delicate as she was. The warmth of her body against his became almost like a kind of itch, their clothes preventing them from holding each other as close as they so desperately needed. Ichigo broke their kiss, his breath falling like a weight from his lungs, shallow and heavy.

Rukia wrapped her fingers around his and pulled them across her stomach, placing them on her hip at the drawstring of her pink pajamas, the soft cotton feeling rough in comparison to her milky skin. Ichigo looked down at her blushing face, so beautiful and innocent. His hand caressed her waist, a part of her he was sure no man had ever touched.

"Rukia…" She silenced his hesitancy with one faint nod, her eyes wide and trusting as her hand slid up his arm and pulled him back down upon her. She nibbled lightly on his lower lip and massaged the back of his neck with as much encouragement as she could muster, putting herself completely in his hands.

"I can be yours, Ichigo," she whispered in his ear. He froze, listening to her sweet voice. With a territorial determination, he let his fingers hook over her drawstring and slowly pull away her last bit of clothing, revealing everything she was to him.

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A/N: Sorry! Had to make it a two parter! I didn't want it to be insanely long in comparison to every other chapter. I'm writing the second part as we speak! I'd like some feedback before I post the second half to make sure I'm on the right track.

TGK


	8. Total Surrender: Part Two

A/N: Sorry for the delay! It was pretty tricky to write. I hope it hits your sweet tooth! 

**Story Announcements!**

**The introduction to my original novel set _The Ramnian Chronicles_ is up on FictionPress! **

**Dark Weavings is up under miscellaneous here on Fanfiction! **Please check it out, it's a _very_ good read. Much better than this!

_Total Surrender: Part Two_

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"_I can be yours, Ichigo," she whispered in his ear. He froze, listening to her sweet voice. With a territorial determination, he let his fingers hook over her drawstring and slowly pull away her last bit of clothing, revealing everything she was to him…_

As Rukia felt the cotton slip away from her thighs, Ichigo's lips brushed fleeting kisses against her neck that caused a torrent of butterflies to take flight in her stomach. She shifted her weight to rest perfectly beneath his hips, the feel of his excitement against her stomach impelling a deep blush upon her cheeks. His hands melted down her figure, teasing her playful stomach, the soft dip of muscle leading to her tiny bellybutton. Ichigo smiled as his fingers spanned from one hipbone to the other, sharing with Rukia the tender moment of endearment. Her soft smile, however, was short-lived as her eyes became like onyx, cold and hard, as if bracing for some expected struggle.

"This is the last chance you have to walk away from me, Ichigo," she warned, her tone solemn and deep. Ichigo shook his head with a grin and played his fingers against her ribs. She shied away, her smile resurfacing instantly as she tried desperately to stop an embarrassing giggle from escaping her lips. Ichigo smirked.

"I'm not going to run away with my tail between my legs, so you can stop trying to convince me," he teased, the fingers that had just been tickling a playful rhythm against her side slowing into smooth caresses down her body. She trembled anxiously as his fingers teased her inner thigh.

"It's not my fault you're too stubborn," she responded with a grin. She craned her neck and bit his lip without a nervous thought or hesitation. They both reveled for a moment in the sense of belonging, a comforting warmth that had completely replaced the alienating distance that had often made time alone awkward in the past.

"You're the one that's stubborn, Rukia," Ichigo retorted, breathing into her lips pressed lightly against his. He dipped his jaw to her neck, his commanding mouth sending shocking pleasure throughout her as he slid his palm sensually down her hips, her thighs. He explored the erotic curve of her leg as it glided up his waist, pulling him as snug between her hips as she could bring him. Now that she found someone who would never let her go, she wanted him as close as he could be.

Ichigo's breath became ragged and shallow as Rukia's abdomen wriggled beneath him, pushing the last bit of clothing away from his body with her sleek legs. As his pajama pants fell away from his legs, the tantalizing heat of her stomach teased his member like an aching smoothness that wasn't quite tangible. He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her beneath him, of Rukia's body pressed so tightly against his.

Rukia. _His_ Rukia? The suspense of not knowing whether or not he could call her that was part of what made his heart skip. She was so ready to give herself to him in a way that neither had experienced, her legs elevated to hug his hips, waiting for him to take control. He licked his lips and kissed her briefly, feeling how easily she seemed to give in to his touch.

Ichigo shifted above her, one elbow propped next to her ear upon the pillow, the other rubbing the back of her thigh. He looked down at her and noticed that her eyes were wide, apprehension in her gaze. He paused suspended above her, not allowing his undeniable needs take over his senses.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, her voice firm. Her hands journeyed across his spine and neck as he looked down at her soft complexion, his body arced protectively above hers.

"Alright then, Rukia," he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek. He kept himself under control and confident as he lifted her thigh softly and settled himself against her heat. Despite his resolve to be sure of himself, the living warmth surrounding him as he slid gently into her body caused his throat to swell with a low hum of pleasure, his breath catching in his lungs. She settled her small palms against his shoulders as he pressed himself against her, the heat spreading from his loins engulfing his thoughts. A small twinge of pain crossed Rukia's eyes, but quickly faded as the jolt of Ichigo's hips against hers in his slow, loving rhythm shocked her body into a driving bliss.

An erotic whimper escaped Rukia's mouth as she let her head fall back on the pillow, her eyes lolling shut. Ichigo felt his stomach twist, knowing that he was pleasing her, and let his lips fall to her sensitive throat, kissing her skin ravenously.

As Ichigo's rhythm became more dominant, more desperate, Rukia's body rocked beneath him, moved by his loins against hers and sent waves of territorial pride through his chest. His body became tight and slick, almost trembling with the powerful ecstasy coursing through his lower abdomen. He had never felt something so sensual, so erotic. It made him crave her, want to hold Rukia so close he might crush her with his embrace, might shatter her small body with his intense, lustful pace.

He kissed Rukia softly and pillared his weight upon both fists, coaxing her to widen her stance, to drape her legs over his powerful forearms. He leaned forward and let himself fall deeper within her. Her neck craned back on Ichigo's pillow, eyes closed, she braced herself against the wall behind them. Ichigo's hips hesitated a moment with a new impulsive rhythm , pulling a strangled cry of pleasure from his lover's throat. As the throbbing tightness of her body surged around him, Ichigo pushed harder, allowing his own release to pour over the edge with a ragged breath, joining her in a blissful abyss.

"_I could be yours, Ichigo," she had said quietly in his ear. It was a beautiful sound, like the sound of a bell's chime throbbing through the air. Perhaps she had already been his. Perhaps she had been his for eternity, their souls continuously finding each other through time. He couldn't be sure and would never know if that was how deeply they cared for each other, but what he _did_ know was her voice. There was never a voice as strong as hers. _

_The world was so quiet with him providing shelter for her body, only his heart penetrated the silence. He had taken such good care of her. Brash in voice though he sometimes was, she often thought his voice to be a playful caress and found herself, in rare instances of boredom, remembering his jokes. She didn't think he'd ever understand that when she hit him, it was out of love, not spite. But it seemed now, that he had known all along. _

_Love was a quiet thing. No words were needed to support the tenderness in moments passed as they drifted off to sleep, his fingers stroking her skin lazily. He could feel her subtle heartbeat from within her chest, a rhythm felt for him alone. Her face was so peaceful and trusting, he felt that she was truly alive within her gigai, no longer mimicking life simply to support him, to uphold her duties. In fact, she seemed to be alive because she had something to live for. Something for herself. Something they shared now. _

_Love was… _deafening

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Due to reader request, this story will continue! Let me know what you think would be a good plotline, since I didn't think beyond maybe one more chapter after this. 


	9. Epilogue

A/N: Okay, so this is mostly just a really short chapter that doesn't say anything so I could legally give you the news on the upcoming Deeper Care plotline extension!! But first, the little chapter… I can't really call it a chapter…

_The Not-Really-A-Chapter Chapter_

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_Rukia opened her eyes, the warmth of Ichigo's draping arms heating her stomach. Rich aromas of blooming spring flitted through the window on a cooling night breeze, just the right temperature to remind one of smooth satin. With a small sigh of romantic contemplation, she let her eyes wander over conscious dreams that played across the ceiling above. _

_She closed her eyes as she imagined Ichigo's voice, phrases he used often, jokes he made. The feel of his peaceful breath upon her collarbone was calming and comfortable, a kind of midnight secret that she buried within herself. He was always so hard, so reserved and stiff. These moments of tenderness weren't necessarily rare, but often interrupted by duty, friend, or foe. Despite the sorrow she felt in only being able to enjoy their time together in split-second moments, she knew somewhere deep within her steeled heart that the remembrance of small, loving things would help her in trials before them. _

_While the smell of chrysanthemums swirled about the bedroom as if performing the sandman's mesmerizing dance, Rukia's eyelids began to surrender once again to sleep, her smile tranquil, serene. Her violet eyes seemed to glide closed like slumbering flowers, petals curling into a gentle swirl of peaceful, soft colors. As her consciousness drifted away in the seas of dreaming, Ichigo's arm curled more tightly around her waist, his cheek nuzzling the warmth of her heartbeat. He smiled in repose, suspended in life until the sun rose. Maybe even in sleep he recognized the caress of Rukia's soul against his. Maybe even in sleep, Ichigo knew that as the sun's rays poured into his room in the hours to come, Rukia would rise with it, as beautiful and illuminating as the great orb in the skies._

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A/N: Whee. Yey for writing on the spot! In any case, here's what's going on!

**Story Updates:**

**The Ramnian Chronicles and Dark Weavings have both been updated and you should read them!** I'm far more proud of those than my Bleach fanfiction.

**Deeper Care II?** That's right! I got 50/50 on whether or not to actually continue the story from the love scene, and to appease both ends of the spectrum, **I've decided to make Ice on the River the sequel to Deeper Care!** It will take place a few months in the future, so that both people who'd like the story to end can see it as a new story and those who want it to continue can just take it as a time lapse! **The story will be out…within a few hours, so look for it! **

**The Shopping Agenda** is finally coming to an end. The next chapter is the last!** Review and let me know if I should make a second with a different shopping motif.**


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